


Questionable Taste

by Flora (florahart)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/Flora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil likes to listen to Eminem. He generally keeps this a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questionable Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This came from the kinkmeme. Heh.

Darcy nods and takes the keys dangling from Coulson's index finger. He's exhausted--like, gray-exhausted, not like, needs a cup of coffee-exhausted--and goddamn if she is letting him drive. He thinks she's just driving to her hotel because she knows the way (like he doesn't; he knows everything and is humoring her but this is all right because she is humoring him), but in fact, she means to keep the keys when they get there and tuck him in on the fold-out couch or--hm. Does she have one? Well, somewhere. Because jesusfuck, alien zombie laser-tag electric flying monkeys in middle America? She's pretty wiped and her level of responsibility is like, 27% of his.

She turns to put the key in the lock and he's right there against her back like all he's letting her do is open the door --humoring her, right?-- but she just stands still with her back to him and her front against the driver's door and says "Sir, if you're planning on ninjaing, I feel like I should remind you that pretty much all of you is sprained, strained, or bruised, and while I don't really want to taze you, it might be for the best."

Of course she's bluffing, and she can feel the huff of his breath against her neck as he manages one little puff of a chuckle.

"Plus, I know a bunch of superheroes who probably would be on my side here. Let me drive. You take a five-minute nap. Yes? That way no one has to smash, shoot, or electricate you for flipping me, or me for letting you drive, even if we're in the ass end of nowhere, Nebraska."

Which they are; the team had taken the jet back to New York, but all the cleanup is on Coulson's team, and they probably have another day or two of stupid fucking around in this strip mall office paying for damages and keeping the locals from doing anything that would create (more) panic.

Finally he lets her open the door and get in the car, and he walks (staggers) around to drop his giant box of files in the trunk and get in the other side. She puts the key in the ignition and turns it then reaches automatically for the stereo power button It comes on with _guess that's why the call it window pane_. She looks for the scan button to find a different station, then pauses. It's playing input from an mp3 player, and when she picks up the player, it's a playlist. She clicks 'next' and is rewarded with another thumpy opening rhythm.

Coulson taps on the window and she blinks, then finds the unlock button as the stereo says _Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity--_ , and then Coulson is in and hitting the off button. 

"You have an Eminem playlist."

"I do. Your point?" He fumbles a little with his seat belt and pulls it across him.

She shrugs. "No point. Never would have guessed--maybe you use it for running?"

"Occasionally. Usually I run while I listen to mission briefs. It's not as motivating, but it does save time. Are you ready to go?"

"Yep." She looks over her shoulder and pulls out into no traffic because it's Nebraska and 12:30 at night. She uses her turn signal anyway because when she doesn't Coulson gets his disappointed face on.

"I sometimes listen to Britney," she says. "Ke$ha, too."

"I sometimes listen to the London Philharmonic."

"Yeah, that one surprises no one. That's like me saying I like a lot of indie stuff. I'm just saying, it's okay to have questionable taste. You can't control what you love, right?"

Coulson leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. "You know if you tell anyone--"

"Yeah, yeah. Filing until eternity, zero opportunities to ogle Barton's ass."

"Which you would of course not do in any manner which makes him uncomfortable anyway."

"Yeah, duh, my rack leaves me specially qualified on that front, and if you say you never noticed I am going to _know_ you are a complete liar."

He opens his eyes and looks sidelong at her, glancing up and down. "Noted."

She laughs. "What do you like about it, anyway? Eminem. Shut up, I won't go blabbing, but I'm curious."

Coulson closes his eyes again and mutters, "Just speaks to me sometimes, is all."

Darcy nods. "Can't argue with that." She drives the rest of the way to her motel in silence and successfully drops the keys down her shirt when they arrive, before he realizes she's going to make him sleep before driving on to his (note to self: it's really stupid to stay separate places and worth some headache to make sure not to). Coulson shakes his head at her and follows her in, grumbling that he could have just slept in the office, then finally lets her convince him to sleep on the couch. He's out in about thirty seconds and doesn't even kick at her when she takes his shoes off him and drapes blanket over his middle.

Darcy watches him for a minute, puts his keys under her mattress, then grins and programs her phone to wake them at six with a brand new ringtone.


End file.
